


Heat

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, Dream Smp, Gen, Implied Murder, Introspection, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Tommy Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The cauldron’s water is in the same color as the lava.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36
Collections: Anonymous





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> english is not my first language, so please feel free to warn me of any typos or grammar mistakes.

The drops of blood fall to the floor and it dissolves, intertwines with the floor, the walls, the ceiling. He steals short, fast, breaths, but they echo still through the walls, so close, closed. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

There – Here – there’s not much to be done. He can’t go back. But Tommy – Tommy dares to look again, to steal again, engrave in his head the mess he’s made. Oh, his hands are so dirty. It’s messy everywhere. It wasn’t his choice to make. He shouldn’t have, like the cat, he shouldn’t have. He stole time. A memory flashes, the clock, and he wonders what time is it? He gets an urge to check it, looking around, only to recall it was broken. Dr– no, that person. Of course. 

So he does what anyone with dirt on their hands does and goes to clean his hands, obviously. His knees hurt but, careful to not touch his trousers, not to dirty them, he gets up.

The lava makes the cell suffocatingly hotter and smaller, but, now, he feels, distantly, there’s this sharp scent that makes itself known in waves. It muddles his thoughts, wraps itself around him along with the heat. 

The cauldron’s water is in the same color as the lava. 

His hands are soaked, liquid escaping to the cauldron. The cuts in his hands sting, and blood dissolves and disappears. Something, akin anger, maybe panic, but burning and destructive, fills him. 

How could he have not? He is not at fault, obviously, of course not, he isn’t like this, like _him_ , cruel and awful. He doesn’t take and take like _him_ , only for fun, doesn’t feed off others and twist reality up and down and around for a little mirth, a satisfaction or two, no, no, he isn’t, he doesn’t, he is not like – not like – Dream. Not like Dream.

He fights the dread to look behind. Dream, what an awful fitting name, he laughs. A terrible name, a terrible person. If only _– No._

And he feels, knows, with an absurd certainty encompassing him, white and paralyzing, from here, this place, this coffin, he can’t get out. Not after _that._ No, he won’t get out, he can’t. 

The cubicle is stuffy, he’s sweaty. The heat has constricted around him, and he tries damping his face, but with no avail. He can’t think straight like this, the heat, the heat melting any solid thought, taking. It’s not his fault.

He doesn’t look at the mess on the corner of the room, right by his side.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [ crime & the city solution - the adversary ](https://youtu.be/amH_W3AKAak)
> 
> i am (bit) obsessed with exploring the psychological impact of killing/injuring someone ... if that makes sense. (this might be lowkey inspired by crime & punishment, maybe, perhaps lol)
> 
> i am not satisfied with this, but thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
